


Save Me From This Sea (Because I'm Drowning In It)

by Thegayfren



Series: Little Secrets [3]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Damn, Geralt saves him, I had a beta though!, Jaskier has PTSD, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Past, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Past Rape/Non-con, Poor jask, Rape Recovery, Siren Jaskier | Dandelion, This Is Sad, anyways i feel bad, but he doesn't know, but jask thinks so, but not any of my characters, but please enjoy, geralt is a hero, i cried, i need someone to hug him, like a night in shinning armor, lots of angst as well, not until at least the seventh installment, okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:07:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22797550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thegayfren/pseuds/Thegayfren
Summary: Although Geralt still doesn't know much about Jaskier, that doesn't stop Jaskier from still remembering it all. Every single bit of it all... But he has Geralt, his knight in shining armor, even if the Witcher has no clue.
Series: Little Secrets [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1636789
Comments: 5
Kudos: 190





	Save Me From This Sea (Because I'm Drowning In It)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is a very serious chapter. This is going to give us some background on Jaskier, and his trauma. So many trigger warnings... Sorry. Please don't read if any of this could trigger you: depression/suicidal tendencies, abuse from older males, non consensual anything, and also blood and gore in relation to said bad stuff up above. But yeah please read the warnings.

Julian Alfred Pankratz was born the beautiful healthy half siren of a rich nobleman and his sweet mother, the queen of the sirens. He was true royalty in every sense of the word, at least to his mother. His birth was rocky and very difficult. But both Julian and his mother fought through.

His mother, Amaryllis and the Viscount of Lettenhove were madly in love. With her great powers, Amaryllis could come up to land and change to take on that of human traits. They believed everything would be good. Julian would live with her under the sea to learn the way of the sea. On his thirteenth birthday, Julian would leave the sea and join his father. The Viscount would then school him in the ways of nobility and life a human. And as a way to have some normalcy in the family, on the weekends they would picnic on the beach together. Everything was planned to be perfect. And it was; until it wasn't.

It was on the eve of his thirteenth birthday. Amaryllis sat upon the shore with them as they awaited the Viscount. Julian laughed with his mother as she made a joke about him not only having to experience puberty underwater but now on land too. Julian was indifferent to the entire situation. Not many had to deal with such lives as he did. His father had still yet to come, so his mother chose this as a time to give him information. She looked at him and spoke with urgency,

"Now Julian, my child, you are to begin your most difficult journey. Your father and I, our relationship is looked down upon by society. This is because he is human, and I am Siren. It means that he will die before me, but we knew this when we began. We came to terms with the cards we were dealt with in life, but the rest of the continent has refused to. This means many humans will consider you a freak of nature. Promise me, my dear child, that you will never believe their claims. You are to be a great being. One who will bring joy, peace, and life into others. I could never bear to let harm come to you. Please promise me, child. _Please_!"

Julian knew not what to reply with. His mother never had an outburst such as this. He could feel the fear, pain, and love that radiated off his mother. Yet somehow in that moment, she perfectly fit her name. Amaryllis; a flower known for beauty unknown to the continent, and his mother possessed every little bit of unworldly beauty that her name promised. As he went to reply, they both heard a whizzing sound. He turned to see a blade lodge itself into his mothers' breast; her painful cry forever ringing in his ears. That is when he realized what his mother meant. The continent would never accept him, or his mother, and he decided to fight. However, his mother struggled out a painful plea for him to run, and that she could never let him see her like this. So he ran.

Julian ran as long and far as he could. He ran from the beach, not towards his father's home, but towards the woods. It was the only place that he felt safe in at the current moment. No one could find him here, and he could rest his legs, which were weak from never using them the way he did now. He knew he couldn't run to a town; it would be more dangerous and higher risk. Julian had barely any clothing on. He wore a thin tunic and shorts seeing as that was all he ever wore for outings to the world of land. Thankfully, this time was called summer, and he could stay decently warm for the next few nights.

As he hid behind a group of trees, he pondered what to do. He knew full well he looked like a feral beast. He could feel his teeth were sharp and pointed, his gills flared violently as he struggled to breathe, and he could see his nails were pointed and sharp. His mother called this a side effect of him being half-siren. He couldn't control his transformation into a siren when he let his emotions take control of him. Julian took deep breaths as he felt tears prick his eyes; he couldn't let himself be overtaken more by his grief, not now. 

He stood and felt the world topple sideways as a wave of nausea hit his slender frame. He felt incredibly weak, but he had to push on. He went to take a step and his leg gave out on him. This left Julian on the bed of the forest with no place to sleep, no clothing, or any protection. He realized how drastic the situation he found himself in really was. He was only a boy, who wasn't raised on land. He knew nothing about living like a human. So in that moment he curled in on himself, showing the child-like innocence he possessed, and let the tears fall. Julian knew not how long he cried and wailed for his mother to return to him, but in the end, he did feel somewhat better. He felt a wave of calm wash over him. His head had cleared itself enough for him to truly think of his next move.

He could go to his father, a man he barely knew, or he could live the life of a nomad. Weighing the options he chose his father. Julian was after all supposed to join the man soon. He would wait the night out here, however. It was true he could barely walk and no reason to struggle with the inevitable. He curled in on himself as he attempted to sleep on the ground of the rough forest. His sleep was filled with dreamless sleep and harsh nightmares. When the light hit his closed eyes, he woke with a solemn tone. He picked himself up and trudged the painful journey to his father's home.

When he arrived, no one came to greet him. He was left alone outside. He banged on the door and yelled, "Father, let me in! It is I, Julian! I am scared and all alone! Please let me in!"

The door was roughly swung open to reveal his father, the Viscount, in a disheveled form with large bags under his eyes. He glared at his son. Julian was caught off guard. He never expected the man who used to have such warmth towards him to now possess a deep-seated hatred. His father gripped his arm painfully pulling him inside. "You are to stay in this room until I say otherwise."

This threw Julian into an abusive relationship with his father. He would often have to cover up bruises on his form from his father. But no matter what, his father never scared him enough to think he was in "danger." The now fifteen-year-old found himself holding onto that last little bit of hope. He learned the ways of nobility and found an even deeper love for music. He would often sneak out to play handmade instruments with children in town. To him this was normal. Being raised manly off-land and the abuse of his father gave him a twisted look on the world, but he was still as kind as a wildflower.

One day while he was out, he found himself in an apothecary. Julian was looking fondly at a small yellow flower. Never being able to look closely at the plants on land, he was interested in the flower. The flower looked good enough to eat. As he went to bite the small flower, a hand swatted the flower away. He found himself looking at an older woman. "Don't eat that child. They ain't safe for ya."

"Why do you have them in here then?" He asked, "Isn't this a place to make someone get better?"

"Aye, child, but many of the herbs used cannot be eaten in their pure state. Like this little flower. Buttercups they call 'em. Dangerous little things, ye get told never to eat them. But if ye boil ‘em, many helpful purposes come. They can help heal wounds, ease a sore throat, even as a sedative."

"Wow, you think I could take one? They are just so pretty."

Julian found a bounce in his step as he came home; the small flower clutched tightly to his chest. His father would never approve. His father was strict and unkind. Small delicate things had no such place in his life anymore. He never understood his father. When his mother was still alive, he was the best person alive, but now he was more like a devil. Julian had to fight to be able to appreciate the small things in life. He had to hide his art, his frilly clothes, and his knick-knacks. He had many old dublets that he decorated with random objects. Julian loved what he saw when they were finished.

He thought tonight would be the same. He would sneak back in, hide his things, then when no one was up he'd decorate an old top with this buttercup and go back out to play music. But he was sorely wrong when he found his father sitting on his bed with a deep frown. "Julian where have you been? I did not permit you to leave."

"Well, I was feeling ill," which wasn't entirely too wrong, "so I went out to get fresh air. I knew you'd be angrier if I threw up in my room. I felt _very_ nauseous, but I am better now!"

His father stood, "Don't lie to me, boy! I know you snuck out. You have been doing it for years. One of the servants told me she has been helping you!"

"Father, I have done no such thing! I swear!"

His cry was greeted with a harsh slap to his cheek. He stumbled back, clutching his face dearly. "You will lie no more! You are to leave and never return. You can go drown in the sea for all I care! You are the reason Mary died! Now get out!" Just to make it worse his father grabbed the small buttercup and crushed it. As the flower fell to the ground, he left the small boy alone and crying.

The last Julian sobbed and wailed the way he did was when his mother died. After he cried until he could cry no more, he sat up and went to gather his things. First, he picked up the crushed flower, cradling it gently in his palms. "I am sorry. You deserved none of this." He put the flower carefully into one of his folded dublets, and then Julian sat the three tops in a bag. He grabbed his notebook that he had hidden with songs in it as well. He left the way he came in and found himself as alone as he was two years ago.

He ran from Kerack and left that life. He found himself in Oxenfurt somewhat quickly. Using the few coins he grabbed, he bought himself a small rickety lute. Now all he needed was a persona. Julian had too much of a negative connotation to it. He needed a name that meant good things. He wouldn’t figure out this name until three days later when he found a picture of several yellow flowers in a textbook with the names of them under the flowers. Julian saw the beautiful buttercup he had become acquainted with it. But did he really want to be called Buttercup?

So next he grabbed a dictionary; one that had plenty of languages in it. He found the entry for buttercup and scoured through the words. Eventually, his eyes fell upon “Jaskier” and that’s when he knew. He would no longer be Julian Alfred Pankratz. Julian died along with his mother, instead, he would be Jaskier.

Jaskier would be a free man. Allowed to love, to sing, to dance, and to enjoy the finer things in life. Jaskier would be everything Julian could never be. 

Everything was fine. Jaskier began to make a small name for himself. He had also made some friends. One friend of his was named Peter. They were inseparable. They were a few years apart. Peter was twenty and Jaskier was seventeen. Eventually, Jaskier found himself struck and in love. So his foolish little heart reached out to Peter and asked for it to be returned. Peter made Jaskier’s heart sore when the older man said yes.

Jaskier and Peter have been together for a week when it happens. They had just snuck into a tavern and stolen some ale. It was a thing they used to do all the time. They escaped and quickly hid in the woods. Jaskier set his cup down and began to dance. The music of the forest and the rivers helped quench Jaskier’s thirst to return to the sea. He constantly felt the pull. In the day, at night, and even here when he should be content with everything he had. He had his freedom, his music, and his love.

Jaskier skipped gingerly over to where he knew a small creek lay. He sat down and let his feet dangle into it. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this happy. If he had his lute, he would definitely be creating a pretty tune. Jaskier felt a laugh bubble up and out of his chest. He looked over his shoulder to see Peter getting up and bringing their drinks with them.

Peter set the drinks down and then sat his person down too. This was their birthday celebration for Jaskier; it would soon be his eighteenth birthday. Peter handed Jaskier’s drink to him, speaking softly, “Here is your drink. I added some honey from the vile I keep on me. I know you like sweet things.”

Jaskier huffed a laugh, “And that’s why I like you too! So sweet and gentle to me.”

After the third or fourth sip, Jaskier began to feel light-headed. “I think I should stop. I must be tired. The ale is hitting me very hard.”

“No, drink. You are safe to do so. Why not get a little merry? Hm?” Peter asked.

So, Jaskier continued to drink. He had finished his drink when he felt his eyes grow heavy. He was unable to move much either. His entire body felt heavy and way too light all at once. He felt Peter grab him and lift him from the water. Then Peter leaned in close and whispered, “My sweet thing be still and behave for me. I hope this doesn’t deter our relationship." He grabbed ahold of Jaskier’s clothes and carefully removed them. The ground was cold and that was all Jaskier could focus on. Tears clogged his vision as he was useless to fight what was taking place. When all was done, Jaskier was left cold, naked, and alone on the floor of the forest. The one place Jaskier thought he was safe turned out to be false. His wings were once again clipped.

Jaskier lay there for hours until he could move once again. He picked himself back up piece by piece. He left Oxenfurt and headed to Posada. There he found a small bit of the freedom he once had again. The freedom was only in his day, for when night fell, his sleep plagued him with all he could not forget.

It had been like any regular night. He was awoken by a horrible memory and then headed to one of the taverns he frequented. After being thoroughly booed off the stage, seriously the song was not _that_ bad, he saw a man alone and brooding. Using the worst pickup line known to humankind, he found himself swept up in the life of travel and heroics. And what if he found himself madly in love with his traveler? No one would want the mess that was the bard, Jaskier. 

But just between himself, Geralt was the best thing to come from all that had happened. His wings were finally opened and healed. The sea called his name once more and had again taken a kind call. Geralt had found him about to jump and drown and saved him from the fate he knew not. He would continue on because of this and he would be by the side of his Witcher forevermore.

Jaskier knew not if his feelings would be returned, but he would sure as hell follow this man to the ends of the Continent. Even with his wings healed, he felt no need to fly. He had all he wanted and all he would ever need. He would love the Witcher as long as he could, and every breath of his would be used to sing of the great White Wolf instead of what it was born to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading, please remember to check out the two other stories in my series. Also thank you @Savvycalifragilistic for beta reading this!


End file.
